


a marathon, not a sprint

by anirondack



Series: 10 Kinks Challenge [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Come Marking, Katsuki Yuuri's Stamina, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Wet & Messy, some domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: Victor asks Yuuri to ruin him, so Yuuri does, for 7000 words.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 10 Kinks Challenge. Kinks are "marathon sex" and "messy sex" and "bodily fluids". (the bodily fluid in question is just like... a lot of jizz)

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor gasps, rubbing his cheek against the bed. His nails scrape against the sheets, looking for something to hold onto, and he ends up biting at it them instead. Yuuri curses above him, slamming into Victor as hard as he can without toppling them over. “Yuuri, I want you to _ruin_ me.”

Yuuri chokes on his own breath and doubles over as his orgasm is ripped out of him all at once, triggered by those words. Victor cries out into the mattress, muffled but desperate sounding, and Yuuri gropes blindly under Victor to find his cock and starts jerking him off frantically. Victor arches hard and spills all over Yuuri’s hand and he’s trembling and still for a long moment, then collapses on his stomach, directly into the wet spot. “Mmmm.”

Yuuri can only drop on top of him, still inside him, and leans his head on Victor’s shoulder. Victor hums again and reaches back clumsily for Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri gives it to him, but Victor’s shattered voice circles around and around in his head, echoing down his spine and making his hips twitch until Victor shoves him off and Yuuri has to carefully pull out so he doesn’t get hard again.

~

A week and a half later, Yuuri takes a cab to Ikea. He hasn’t been to an Ikea since he lived in America and had to buy extra-long twin sheets for his new bed, but the layout doesn’t seem to have changed, even halfway around the world. Fortunately, that includes the little paper maps that sit next to the paper tape measures and the tiny pencils. He gets lost on the top floor for a long time, during which he finds himself lusting after a new storage set that they could put in the bedroom to consolidate some shelves and has to shake himself out of it.

Bedding is on the first floor and Yuuri drags himself away from some nice plate sets into a land of sheets. Victor has a queen sized bed, but it’s a big queen sized bed and sometimes fitted sheets don’t fit, so Yuuri looks at king sized sheets instead. Signs next to sheet bundles read “three hundred lines!” - three hundred _thread count_ , Yuuri corrects himself - but three hundred is too nice for what he needs. He hunts down the crappy sheets tucked away on the side shelf, which are cheaper and not very soft to the touch. He winds up going with a deep blue, and then goes back to look at the plates as a reward to himself.

He gets a cab back with the sheets, some wine glasses made of thin silicone (which Yuuri hopes will help them stop spilling their nicest bottles), and a fairly large stuffed dog from the outside edge of the children’s area that Yuuri thinks Victor and Makkachin will both like. The cab driver takes one look at him and laughs.

~

It takes a few days off after that to build up some courage, but while Victor is out walking Makkachin and pouting about being alone while out walking Makkachin, Yuuri strips the nice, incredibly expensive Egyptian cotton sheets that Victor insists on buying off the mattress and throws them in the hamper, then starts tugging the fitted blue sheet on. It’s clearly not as nice, but if all goes according to plan, he’ll burn them tomorrow and no one will ever care about how scratchy they were.

The bed is made back up and the blankets smoothed down so that no one can tell that anything was changed. Yuuri takes the laundry down to the washing machine and piles the sheets in to be dealt with tomorrow. He shoves the hamper over toward the closet to keep it out of the way, then double checks the drawers in their side tables. Victor’s side holds the lube, and it’s a big bottle, about half full, which is more than Yuuri thinks he’ll need. There are some condoms in there too, and Yuuri’s hand hovers over them, then pushes them to the back of the drawer. He isn’t anticipating using them tonight.

He throws a couple towels from the bathroom cupboard into the bedroom on his side of the bed, then goes out to the kitchen and turns on the stove to heat up some water. Just because it’s not winter anymore doesn’t mean it’s not cold outside, and Victor is probably going to come back chilled. Yuuri finds his small teapot and scoops some tea leaves into a strainer, then pours the water into the pot once the kettle starts to whistle. He leaves it to steep and heads over to the windows by the door and looks out of them. The snow banks are gone, but everything is wet from snow melting into sleet and sleet melting into water and oversaturating the grass. Everything is very muddy and brown, but little bits of green are starting to pop back up again and it reminds Yuuri of spring at home.

He goes and pulls the tea strainer out of the pot and drops it in the sink, then pours two mugs full of tea and wraps the pot in a dish towel. Victor likes milk in his tea, so Yuuri drops some in and stirs it up, then takes both mugs back to the couch. He sets Victor’s on the table and curls up on one side of the couch, legs tucked under his body, and sips at his own mug.

Victor arrives barely two minutes later, pink and panting. Makkachin barks happily and scrambles around and Victor has to jog after him to try to unclip his leash. Yuuri laughs softly as he watches Victor chase Makkachin into the kitchen and back, and then Makkachin wanders off into the bedroom and Victor emerges looking adorably ruffled.

“I made tea,” Yuuri says, raising his mug, then gesturing at Victor’s.

“You’re my life saver,” Victor sighs. He steps around the couch and flops down onto it, kicking his shoes off and then tucking his feet under Yuuri’s thighs. Yuuri leans over and hands him the mug and Victor breathes in deeply, then sighs again, much more content. “It smells so nice.”

“Extra jasmine in this one, I think,” Yuuri says. “I’m still not used to the Russian brands.”

“It’s lovely,” Victor says decisively, and groans when he takes a sip. “Perfection.”

Yuuri smiles at him and rubs his foot along Victor’s thigh as Victor launches into a recount of everything that had happened on his forty-five minute walk with Makkachin in minute detail.

They laze around for a while, and then Victor starts humming about dinner, so they pick themselves up and move to the kitchen. Makkachin hears people with food and bounds in and Yuuri fills his bowl up while Victor takes out some chicken breasts and potatoes and starts rubbing them down with herbs and oil. Yuuri sits on the floor and watches Victor as Makkachin lies in his lap with his head butted up against Yuuri’s chest and he wonders how he’s possibly expected to ruin such perfection as Victor. His narrow hips sway slightly as he cuts up the chicken to roast it and when he turns and sees Yuuri watching him, he gives him a blinding smile. Yuuri tries not to swoon – it’s been over a year, but sometimes it’s hard not to.

They have dinner together on the couch, using the wine glasses Yuuri bought. They look a little silly, opaque silicone next to delicate silverware and china, but Victor takes great joy in bending his into shapes and Yuuri takes great joy in watching him. It’s nearly enough to make him forget about what’s waiting in the bedroom.

After dinner, the wine kicks in and Victor helps Yuuri do his stretches. Yuuri groans delightedly as Victor presses his back down into a side split and he melts into the floor.

“You’re so bendy,” Victor murmurs as he strokes Yuuri’s back.

“Mmmmm.”

“I could stretch you any way I wanted,” Victor adds. He pushes Yuuri’s shoulders down bit by bit until Yuuri’s chest brushes against the floor. It aches, but in an incredibly satisfying way. Yuuri moans at the stretch and gives Victor a thumbs up.

He helps Victor do his stretches too, though Victor is rather less flexible than he is. Victor can’t do a full split the way Yuuri can, and he can’t reach as far as Yuuri can – proportionally, anyway – and he complains a lot more. Yuuri braces a knee against the small of Victor’s back and forces him to stretch his hamstrings and Victor whines like Yuuri is killing him and turns into jelly afterwards.

The anxiety comes back when Victor finally stands up and makes noises about getting ready for bed. Yuuri opens and closes his mouth several times, but Victor is already heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Yuuri listens to the faucet and refills Makkachin’s water and tries to figure out the best way to phrase _I thought you might like to get fucked over and over again and is that true and can I help you with that?_ Just thinking it makes him blush.

In the end he doesn’t say that, or anything else his stammering brain comes up with. What happens is Victor comes out of the bathroom and Yuuri follows him into the bedroom. Victor strips off his shirt and drops it on the floor and pulls the covers back, revealing the subpar sheets. Confusion flits across his face, and then Yuuri’s hand collides with the back of his neck, gripping it tightly. He forces Victor forward until Victor lands face down, bent over the bed with his ass raised up in the air a little.

“Yuuri?” Victor breathes.

“You said you want me to ruin you,” Yuuri tells him. His voice is pitched down, seductive and alluring and dominating, without him even making the decision to do so. It’s like listening to someone else. “Do you want to be ruined?”

A lot of different emotions flash across Victor’s face in a second and Yuuri almost starts to panic, but the final one ends up being a wild-eyed lust that turns Victor’s eyes dark and his face much pinker. “I. Yes. I– I want that.”

“Good,” Yuuri purrs– when did he learn how to purr? He leans down and plasters himself against Victor’s back, holding him down. Victor makes a soft noise that doesn’t really make it out of his chest. “Then I’ll make a mess out of you tonight.”

Victor presses his lips together, but Yuuri hears his soft moan. He awkwardly nudges Victor’s thighs apart and presses his knee between them, which doesn’t really help him in the sensation department but does make Victor a little more off balance. Victor’s fingers curl down of their own accord and his nails scratch at the sheets.

“I don’t recognize these,” he says after a moment.

“I bought them,” Yuuri says.

“Why?” Victor asks, like he already knows the answer.

“Because what I’m going to do to you, your fancy thousand thread count sheets would not recover from,” Yuuri whispers, and Victor very gratifyingly shudders all over.

“They’re only six fifty,” he mumbles, and then Yuuri his hooking his hands under Victor’s arms and pulling him up to shove him back onto the bed. He reaches down and shoves the duvet back as far as he can, then throws the pillows on the ground. Victor looks up at him, and then Yuuri crawls on top of him and takes Victor’s wrists in his hands and pins them down on either side of Victor’s head. He watches the line of Victor’s throat as Victor swallows.  “What are you going to do to me, Yuuri?” Victor asks. There’s the tiniest bit of challenge in his voice.

“I’m going to come in you,” Yuuri says softly. He can’t think about this, even as he says it; otherwise, his face will go bright red and Victor will see and the whole thing will be ruined. The words tumble out because he focuses too hard on keeping his voice steady to think about them. “And then I’m going to make you come. And then I’m going to come in you again, and then again, and maybe, if you’re lucky–”

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps. He’s already straining upwards, trying to touch Yuuri, but Yuuri doesn’t let him. “God, Yuuri–”

“I’ll use condoms if you want,” Yuuri says, momentarily serious. “I thought you might not want them, but they’re in the drawer and–”

“No,” Victor breathes. “I don’t– You– Don’t use them.”

Yuuri nods. Then he grins. “Be glad we don’t have practice tomorrow.”

Victor’s retort, if there was one, gets cut short by Yuuri leaning down and swallowing it.

They kiss messily, because Yuuri tries to touch all of Victor’s skin while also taking their clothes off while also trying to hold Victor down. Victor keeps pawing at bits of Yuuri and then being shoved back and squirming all over the place. Yuuri starts to worry that Victor doesn’t actually want to be held down, but Victor keeps making the most delicious noises when Yuuri gets a firm hold on his wrist or pushes at his chest. He gets a handful of Victor’s hair and jerks his head to the side and Victor lets out a low, rough cry that sounds like someone reached into the depths of him to pull out.  Yuuri is abruptly aware of how absolutely maddeningly hard he is. He presses his cock down against Victor’s thigh and grinds down once. “I’m so ready to have you.”

Victor’s second cry is quieter, but his legs spread a little more and his eyes are closed, trusting Yuuri to take care of things. Yuuri finally gets Victor’s pants and underwear off of his ankle where they were trapped, then throws them across the room. Victor reaches up in the second that Yuuri isn’t paying attention to him to wrap around Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri has to push him down again, but Victor groans and rolls his head back, showing off his throat in a demand for Yuuri to kiss it. Yuuri obliges him and mouths wetly at Victor’s skin, scraping his teeth through every kiss. Victor shivers and wraps his legs around Yuuri’s thighs and bucks up until Yuuri breaks the kiss, panting, “Okay, okay, okay.”

Victor blinks at him hazily. He looks to be having a very good time.

“I need to get…” Yuuri trails off, then stumbles off the bed, pants still around his knees. He kicks them off and flushes when he hears Victor’s soft laugh, and focuses very hard on getting lube out of the drawer and redirecting blood back downward. When he looks back, though, Victor is watching him, still splayed out on the bed, hard and ready and very keyed up. Yuuri hip checks the drawer closed and they just look at each other for a moment while Yuuri tries to imagine what Victor is thinking and get himself back on track. Then Victor reaches out one hand and crooks a finger and all of Yuuri’s planning goes out the window.

They roll on the bed together, grabbing at each other’s shoulders and thighs and arms. Yuuri hitches Victor’s leg up and gets ahold of his hair again, and Victor practically pushes himself back by Yuuri’s shoulders to make him pull harder. The lube ends up under Yuuri’s side, which is uncomfortable enough that he remembers where it is, even with Victor kissing him stupid.

Yuuri finally wrestles Victor onto his back. Victor is grinning and loose and hard and sweaty and beautiful. Yuuri can barely deal with the lube because he keeps leaning down and tasting Victor’s chest and neck and lips. The bottle makes a wet sound and Yuuri glances down and sees some slick drip onto the sheets and is glad he bought new ones.

He uses too much lube for Victor, but he knows they’ll need it. His hand and Victor’s ass are wet and slippery as he rocks two fingers into Victor. Little drips run down the insides of Victor’s thighs and Yuuri gathers it all up with his thumb and redirects it downwards. It puddles a little and gets absorbed by the cotton, leaving dark spots behind. Yuuri thinks about how there’ll be white streaked alongside them soon and has a very quiet heart attack.

He forces Victor to tolerate him through four fingers, because if Victor was going to tear something, it would be tonight. He’ll be very loose very soon, but for the first time, at least, Yuuri wants it to be comfortable. When he pulls his hand free, he wipes his fingers on Victor’s stomach, which seems to hit some sort of button for Victor, and then grabs him by the ankles and pushes his legs up over Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Oh,” Victor says breathlessly.

“You want to back out?” Yuuri asks one last time.

“If you stop now I’ll make you do Salchows until you crack a hole in the ice,” Victor hisses.

Yuuri laughs and leans back a little and fumbles around the top sheet until he finds the bottle again. He uses too much lube here too – anything to make it easier – and lines himself up. Victor is much more open for him than usual, so he sinks partway in with a loud, wet sound. Yuuri blushes hard again, but Victor groans and throws his head back. Yuuri traces the tip of his nose from the base of Victor’s throat to his chin, and then snaps his hips forward the rest of the way and Victor chokes on his own spit.

Yuuri fucks into Victor shallowly and reminds himself that he can’t last long the first time. He needs to come fast, so he can wreck Victor that much more immediately. It feels wrong and rude to just use Victor, but Victor would enjoy it and Yuuri has, if not a plan anymore, then the bones of one, and if he deviates too far, he knows he’s going to get lost.

Victor makes his first orgasm easy. He runs his hands over Yuuri’s chest and tugs at his nipples and curses loudly and often and hisses encouragements through his teeth as Yuuri drives him up the bed. Yuuri presses their foreheads together and manages to focus on one bright blue eye, and then squeezes his own eyes shut and comes with Victor’s name on his lips. Victor tenses all around him and makes an odd sound, and then his grip on Yuuri’s arm tightens and he whines out a soft, “Oh, oh, oh.”

“Victor?” Yuuri breathes, still panting softly.

“I felt you,” Victor says. His tone is a little higher pitched than usual. “When you came. I felt...”

Yuuri nods and carefully lowers Victor’s legs off of his shoulders, then pushes his thighs apart. He carefully withdraws, and with his cock comes a dribble of white. Victor’s entire body tenses and shivers, but Yuuri can’t look away. He swipes it up with his thumb and, in a moment of perversion, pushes it back in. Victor moans gutturally, and it feels like he’s started shaking a little.

“How does it feel?” Yuuri asks. He wraps a hand around his cock and starts jerking himself gently, not wanting to force his body too hard.

“It’s– it’s hot,” Victor manages. There’s a tremor in his voice as well as his thighs. “Like you’re still so warm inside me.”

“I’ll be back inside you in a moment,” Yuuri promises. With his free hand, he eases a finger back inside Victor, who opens up easily for him. He can only feel heat and wetness, which his brain tells him is probably from the lube, until he pulls his finger free and it’s white and Victor leaks a little bit more.

And just like that, Yuuri’s ready to go.

“Ready?” he asks Victor. Victor just nods this time. Yuuri hitches his legs up again, around his hips this time, and slowly but easily slides back into Victor. Victor clenches his teeth and sucks air in through them, but when Yuuri bottoms out again, he lets out a long sigh and groans.

“Yuuri, I feel so full,” he murmurs, tracing along Yuuri’s knuckles.

“You’ll feel fuller soon,” Yuuri promises. Victor looks up at the ceiling, like he’s looking for God himself up there, but then Yuuri rocks back and thrusts in and he really hopes that God will turn a blind eye to this particular moment.

He’s not entirely hard for a little while - enough to fuck Victor but not enough that his skin feels like rock. There’s a gentle ache in his lower belly which is only going to get worse as the night goes on, but it’s the sort of ache that feels good, like when Victor had pressed him down into a split earlier. It echoes through him, pulling pleasantly at his body and making him feel warm inside.

Yuuri spills more lube directly onto the place where their bodies join and fucks it into Victor. Victor gasps again and his head thrashes sideways against the sheets. When Yuuri draws out a little, the lube makes another wet sound that Yuuri practically feels, and Victor trembles with it. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” he keeps murmuring, and his hands come up to grab onto Yuuri’s shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Yuuri says in a way that he hopes is soothing. “I can stop–”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Victor says insistently. “Yuuri, please…” He lifts one leg back up over Yuuri’s shoulder and turns more on his side. Yuuri shuffles his thighs apart a little for better leverage and bunds down slowly until Victor’s thigh is nearly against his chest.

“Better like this?” Yuuri asks carefully.

“Deeper,” Victor breathes. Yuuri brushes some sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Victor’s eyes are sparkling and his pupils are blown wide. He looks kind of like he’s come already. “Will you touch me?”

“That won’t end it too soon?”

Victor barks out a laugh. “I thought you weren’t going to stop when I finished.”

Yuuri opens his mouth a little, but Victor has a point. “Okay. Just a second.”

He carefully pulls out of Victor and Victor hisses and scratches lightly at Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri closes his eyes so he doesn’t see himself wipe his hand along his cock, gathering up some of the lube and– he can’t even think it, but Victor knows, because his moan when Yuuri slowly slides back into him and wraps his wet hand around his cock is a broken thing.

“How’s that?” Yuuri mumbles against Victor’s knee.

Victor just makes a soft sort of keening noise and bucks up into Yuuri’s fist. Yuuri kisses at Victor’s knee and licks the taste of his sweat away and gradually starts fucking Victor into a rhythm and driving Victor up into his hand. He strokes Victor twice as fast as his thrusts, throwing in a twist at the head every now and then to keep Victor guessing, and Victor’s hand shoots out and grabs Yuuri around the back of the neck and comes all over his own stomach.

Yuuri watches, fascinated, and makes sure to keep watching through the whole thing, and when it’s over and Victor is pulsing around him and shaking and panting, Yuuri carefully shifts him onto his back and lowers his leg again. Victor looks at him through slitted eyes, and then down to his chest, which is a mess of lube and sweat and come. Yuuri looks too, and then runs a finger through it, all the way up Victor’s chest. It feels wet and hot and not the most pleasant, but Victor looks like he’s been electrocuted.

“Do you like that?” Yuuri asks, honestly curious. Victor nods, so Yuuri lets go of him and gets his hands dirty. He presses his fingers into the mess and rubs it into Victor’s skin and Victor watches him, open mouthed, like he’s about to cry.

“Is this good?” Yuuri asks as he drags a smear down Victor’s side. “I want you to tell me.”

“It’s good,” Victor says. “It’s so…” He breaks off and rolls his hips a little. Yuuri’s still in him, still hard - he’d nearly forgotten but clearly Victor hadn’t.

“Dirty?” Yuuri suggests.

“Indulgent,” Victor says instead. He grabs Yuuri’s wrist and brings Yuuri’s hand up to his face, then licks a stripe up the middle of Yuuri’s palm. Yuuri blanches a little, but Victor hums, apparently satisfied.

“Okay… And, um, how are you?” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut for a second, because that’s possibly the least sexy way to ask someone if they want you to continue railing them ever, but Victor’s knuckles brush along his hip and he smiles.

“You’re not done with me already, are you?” he teases lightly, and some tension in Yuuri’s chest unknots itself.

“Of course not. You’ve only come once.”

“I’m an old man, Yuuri,” Victor says, chuckling. “I don’t know how many I have in me.”

“I’ll just have to find out.” Yuuri leans down and steals a quick kiss – Victor tastes like come and mint, which is a combination that Yuuri is almost embarrassingly familiar with now – and rolls Victor back onto his side and bucks his hips forward into him.

Victor is suddenly very overstimulated now that Yuuri’s moving, and he grabs a pillow and jams his face into it. It sounds like a very gentle, soft, unalarming scream, but Yuuri feels very alarmed indeed until Victor curls his legs around Yuuri’s back and shoulder and pulls him in. Yuuri pulls the pillow away from Victor’s eyes, but Victor holds onto it with his teeth, and he curses into it loudly and often as Yuuri thrusts into him relentlessly.

Coming the first time took the edge off, and now Yuuri can really take his time. He doesn’t know if that’s the best idea, especially if he’s going to drag his body through at least three orgasms in a night, but the way spit slicks Victor’s lips as chants of, “Ah, ah, Yuuri, ah, _Yuuri_ ,” slip between them makes him want to simultaneously come immediately and go forever. Things are wet and smooth and hot between them and Yuuri is getting used to the wet noises, mostly because Victor seems to like them.

Yuuri reaches up and grips Victor’s hair and tugs backwards, forcing his body into a slight arch. Victor rewards him with another sharp _ah!_ and claws at the unforgiving sheets. “Make me come, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs, and the seductive voice of earlier slides into the driver’s seat. “Make me fill you up.”

“Fuck, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor manages, and then his body is tensing and relaxing and tensing around Yuuri. He feels Victor’s thighs working too, squeezing him and digging heels into his back. Victor’s hands pet clumsily at Yuuri and grab at what they can reach - his thigh, his shin, his stomach, his shoulder again. Victor finally manages to drag him down and he kisses Yuuri badly, missing by half a mouth and open mouthed and wet and frantic. Once Yuuri’s close enough, he reaches down, past Yuuri’s cock, and presses his fingers up into the tight skin right behind Yuuri’s balls and it triggers a sudden avalanche of sensation that makes Yuuri nearly headbutt Victor as he doubles over and spills inside him again. Victor swears loudly and breaks off into moans again that Yuuri hears like they’re through a tunnel. His lower body is throbbing with his heartbeat and he’s starting to feel a little sensitive, but he wants to make sure Victor feels it when he pulls out and the evidence comes out with him.

“How’s that?” Yuuri murmurs against Victor’s neck.

“Fuck,” Victor stammers, in English and then Russian, which seems a little more emphatic when he says it.

“You like it when I fill you up?” Yuuri asks, absent from his own embarrassment for a moment.

“Yes,” Victor says plainly. His cock is half hard and wet against his hip, and Yuuri would feel bad about that if Victor wasn’t so obviously enjoying himself.

“Good. Deep breath.” Victor inhales through his nose and Yuuri pulls out again, with a little more effort this time. His own come follows him again, trickling onto the sheets, painting parts of his skin white. “Why don’t you sit up and look?”

Victor struggles upwards and takes one look between his own thighs, then falls back against the bed and swears up a fairly sizeable storm.

Yuuri has to smile.

He lies down next to Victor and lays one arm over Victor’s side. Victor looks at him through blurry eyes and Yuuri leans up to kiss his forehead. “I need a minute, so I’m going to finger you, okay?”

“Ah,” Victor says. He looks pleasantly overwhelmed by the thought.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says. “I know you’re wet enough.”

“Ah,” Victor says again, a little more urgently.

Yuuri helps Victor roll onto his stomach and pointedly doesn’t look at all the wet spots they’ve left on the sheets. He pushes Victor’s thighs apart and traces his hand over Victor’s ass, squeezing a little. Then his fingers dip down and he rubs against muscle that gives way to him easily. He traces his fingers down to Victor’s balls and then back up again, pressing in gently. Victor’s body opens up for him with little more than a whimper from Victor, so Yuuri carries on and in until he’s buried deep in Victor and his own come is getting his knuckles wet. He considers leaning down and licking around his fingers, but he doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so crooking his fingers down a little is the next best thing.

Victor nearly screams again and he slams his face into the bed. He tries to get one knee up under him, but it slides out to the side and just makes him grind against the bed instead. Yuuri gets the pillow for him and Victor mashes his face in it and moans so loudly that Yuuri thinks for a second that Victor is yelling at him. It makes him hesitate, but then Victor shoves his hips back and Yuuri gets the message.

He fingers Victor mercilessly, for a long time, and Victor isn’t quiet about it. He screams and swears and whines and begs mindlessly for Yuuri to go faster or shallower or deeper and wears out his voice in ten minutes as Yuuri complies easily with his demands. Yuuri adds more lube to make it smoother, because Victor’s ass is starting to look sore, and he kisses all up and down Victor’s spine like he’s apologizing for the endless battery of stimulation. He gets a hand under Victor and takes his cock in hand and Victor’s skin is so hot that Yuuri feels like it’ll burn him. Victor is leaking enough from the constant prostate stimulation that Yuuri’s stokes are even and easy and smooth, even as they make Victor cry out more. Yuuri fucks him on both ends and he lasts for several more loud, agonizingly pleasure filled moments before Victor arches and shouts Yuuri’s name and comes again. Yuuri stills much faster this time, stroking the curve of Victor’s ass with his thumb until Victor stops shaking so hard, and then he carefully draws his hands away and reaches up to rub Victor’s shoulders. Victor makes a wounded sound, and then a more content one as Yuuri kisses his shoulder blade.

“Come on, let me turn you over again, I want to see you,” Yuuri says. Victor is dead weight and makes him do most of the work, but when he’s on his back again, Yuuri swallows hard. Victor’s chest is pink and his cock is angry and red and there’s a big spot on the bed next to him where he came that is reflected slickly on his skin. Yuuri traces his finger around it again, then brushes his palm along Victor’s shaft.

Victor gasps and reaches down to clumsily shove his hand away. “Not yet,” he manages. Too much, not yet.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees. “Thank you for telling me.” He pets Victor’s wet stomach instead and thinks for a moment. If Victor is too sensitive now, Yuuri can’t fuck him, but _not yet_ means that Victor doesn’t want to be done. He wonders for a moment what he can do instead, but he’s not thinking very clearly, so, “I could come on you instead,” comes out without any input from his mental censors.

Victor looks at him with only one eye open. “What?”

“On your… your chest, or… If you wanted.” Yuuri rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “If you’re too sensitive now, and you wanted–”

“You’d come on me?” Victor murmurs.

“Yes, if you wanted it.”

“On my stomach?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my back?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees.

“On my face?”

Yuuri feels like he’s the one who’s been electrocuted now. Adrenaline floods his system like a panic attack and makes his extremities very cold and then very hot as he makes sure he heard Victor right. Victor looking at him with both eyes open and, if Yuuri wasn’t so surprised right now he would have missed it, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Do you want that?” he asks eventually.

“Yes, Yuuri,” Victor says immediately. “Will you…” His lips stay parted a little, but no more words come out.

“Will I what, Victor?” Yuuri asks. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Will you come on my face,” Victor whispers obediently, and Yuuri is pretty sure he hit his head doing a toe loop several days ago and actually died.

“I… I mean. If you want me to?” Yuuri clears his throat. “If you want me to. Yes, I will. I can do that.”

Victor looks a little amused and a lot exhausted, which is the opposite of how he usually looks when Yuuri is stammering any other time. He reaches out and tugs at Yuuri until Yuuri is on his hands and knees over him.

“Sit on my chest,” Victor requests softly.

“Won’t that be uncomfortable?”

“It’ll feel good. You, holding me down…” Victor looks dreamily at Yuuri’s left shoulder, then tugs Yuuri’s hand again.

“Okay, okay.” Yuuri crawls up until his knees are stuck under Victor’s shoulders, then sits back on his chest.

Victor looks up at Yuuri’s cock, which is right over his face, and then past it to the rest of Yuuri, and says, “Shit.”

Yuuri runs a hand messily through his hair. “Yes?”

“Fuck,” Victor says, emphatically. He guides Yuuri’s hand to his cock and wraps his fingers around Yuuri’s. “You look perfect up there.”

“I look like a mess,” Yuuri says, which is not untrue.

“I know,” Victor replies. He gives Yuuri a loose, crooked smile and squeezes his grip on Yuuri’s hand. “Make me one too.”

Yuuri lets out a soft breath and nods and gets a good grip on Victor’s hair again. Victor pulls against it to feel the resistance, so Yuuri pushes his head down harder so that he can only stare straight up. With his other hand, he pushes Victor’s wrist to the bed and murmurs, “Keep that there,” and when he moves it away, Victor actually listens. “Good,” Yuuri praises, and then wraps his hand back around his cock and hisses. He feels very sensitive, and the ache in his body is still there, but pressing on it is so satisfying. He rolls his balls between his fingers and touches the head of his cock to Victor’s cheek. Victor’s eyes fall closed, but open again when Yuuri’s cock bumps against his nose.

“Beautiful,” Victor says hoarsely.

Yuuri glows.

He speeds up his strokes, hips thrusting gently into his own hand. Part of him wants to be showy, to make it look good for Victor, who’s lying under him, rapt. But the other half knows, like so many other things, if he stops to think about it, it’ll all fall apart, and he’s at the point where he just has to plow on without thinking and come on Victor Nikiforov’s face.

“Talk to me,” he manages, turning his wrist a little when one motion makes his bicep ache too much. “Ask me again for…”

“I want you to come on me,” Victor says immediately. His voice is hushed, like he’s afraid of interrupting or speaking too loudly. “On my face, and my chin and my throat… I want you to mark where you’ve been.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says breathlessly.

“Show me that I’m yours,” Victor murmurs. “Ruin me, I know you can. I know you want to. I want you to. Yuuri, please, Yuuri–”

“Oh, God, oh fuck,” Yuuri chokes out, and then it happens. His lower body seizes and pulses and the first streak of come shoots across Victor’s open mouth and left cheek. Victor looks honestly surprised for a second, but then a second shot lands on his nose and a third up to his forehead and he looks like he’s seeing God again, but somehow more. Maybe two or three Gods, all of whom came out of Yuuri’s cock and situated themselves on Victor’s face in four distinct white lines like the world’s most explicit free program makeup.

Yuuri sits on Victor’s chest, panting, unable to do anything but stare down. Victor seems to be breathing just as hard and he stares up at Yuuri too, lips still parted even though there’s come on them. Yuuri slowly lets go of Victor’s hair, then moves his hand down to run his thumb across Victor’s lower lip. Victor opens his mouth a little wider and Yuuri pushes his thumb in. Victor sucks it clean, then parts his lips again and Yuuri does it a second time, cleaning off Victor’s upper lip this time. The whole thing feels very surreal, especially when Yuuri moves to clean up the rest of Victor’s face and Victor knocks his hand away.

“Don’t.” His voice is trashed. Yuuri can hear the way his vocal cords grate. “Leave it.”

Yuuri blinks. “I mean… we have to go to bed later.”

“Later,” Victor insists. “Not now.”

“...Okay.” Yuuri moves his hand away again, then slowly rises up off of Victor and sits heavily down next to him. Victor takes a deep breath in through his nose as his chest expands without the weight on it, then lets it out through his mouth.

“Yuuri, I feel…” Victor pauses and thinks. “Punched in the testicles?”

Yuuri can’t help but laugh.

“No, it’s very serious,” Victor tells him insistently. “I may never move again.”

“You have to,” Yuuri says. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Victor’s eyes widen a little. “I don’t know if I can…” His eyes dart down to his lap, then back to Yuuri.

“That’s okay,” Yuuri reassures him. “I know I can.”

Victor closes his eyes and throws an arm over his eyes. Yuuri flinches at the way it smears. “You’re a machine.”

“I hope I’m better than that,” Yuuri says lightly. “I just need a few minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Victor says, waving his hand. “I’ll just be here, melting into his bed.”

Yuuri snorts, then reaches down and takes hold of Victor’s cock again. Victor yelps and sounds very like Makkachin.

“Yuuri–”

“It’s okay. I won’t make you come again,” Yuuri promises. “I’ll just make you feel… Full.” He slips his hand down and presses two fingers against Victor’s ass. He can feel how sore the rim must be, and Victor squirms and rocks away from it, and then back down. “Do you want that?”

Victor seems to have mostly given up on words, so he just nods.

“Okay. One more time.” Yuuri knee-walks back down and presses Victor’s thighs apart.The whole situation is a mess, wet and dry lube and come on Victor’s legs and the sheets, red and swollen skin and incredibly obvious stains. Victor looks… Victor looks _used_ and Yuuri feels strange and guilty and very aroused by it, in unequal and lopsided parts. At this point in the night, the guilt has taken the back seat away from higher reasoning.

The lube was never closed, so it’s spilled on the sheets some feet away. Yuuri grimaces as he puts his hand in it, and then gives up and upturns the last ten percent or so of the bottle straight onto Victor. It’s way more than necessary, but he doesn’t care anymore. The whole thing is a filthy mess and Victor is revelling in it, so Yuuri may as well too.

He buries his fingers in Victor again, stretching instead of thrusting, making sure Victor can take him again. Victor absolutely wails when Yuuri brushes anything sensitive inside him and pulls at his own hair and face to bear it. He’s wiped off a lot of the come himself with his arm and the sheet, and now there’s just the shiny outline where it’ll dry and a bit on Victor’s chin. Yuuri watches him and presses his fingers up and Victor does scream, a real scream that they’re probably going to get complaints about, but the last thing Yuuri cares about right now is the building management.

He uses four fingers to stretch Victor, and with his other hand, he makes a loose circle with his fingers and rolls his hips into it. His cock never really went down all the way – it’s existed in a state of half or complete hardness on and off for the last hour and a half or so. His body whines at him as he makes himself fully hard again, and Victor isn’t the only one who’s going to be sore tomorrow. The difference is that Yuuri will be able to walk to the medicine cabinet to get him Advil.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, once he’s gotten it back up. “Are you still alive?”

“No,” Victor mumbles. His eyes are barely open, but Yuuri sees his pupils move to look down. “I’ve perished.”

“Can you come back?”

“Maybe just for you.” Victor pushes himself up onto his elbows with great difficulty and opens his eyes a little more.

“Are you ready?” Yuuri says.

Victor nods, then holds out his hand. Yuuri reaches out and takes it, then leans forward and guides himself into Victor for the third time tonight. Victor hisses and squeezes Yuuri’s hand so hard that it aches, probably the same way that Victor’s insides ache. Yuuri bottoms out easily and takes a moment to just breathe.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Victor says dryly.

“I won’t,” Yuuri promises. “You don’t hold back on mine, either.”

He grips Victor’s shin and pushes his thigh out more, then snaps his hips hard, back and forth. All coherence seems to fall out of Victor immediately, and he shoves half of his arm into his mouth to keep from yelling again. Yuuri strokes his shin with his thumb, then grabs him by the hip instead and uses that as better leverage.

His body feels so raw, like all his nerves are exposed, but Victor is just one big nerve that Yuuri won’t stop touching. He writhes like he’s in pain and keeps pulling Yuuri’s hand to drag him closer. Yuuri’s name comes up a few times, but it’s mostly just unintelligible swearing and animalistic noises and the wet slap of lubed skin against lubed skin. He babbles on in Russian and Yuuri can’t make out a single bit of it, because it’s all wrapped up in a thready, desperate, wailing voice that seems to pass his auditory senses and go straight to his cock instead.

There’s an orgasm in Yuuri, and he can feel it but he can’t quite reach it. It sits on the precipice inside him and he keeps driving closer and closer, a Zeno’s paradox of desperation. He ruts into Victor over and over and pants out Victor’s name until finally, Victor opens his eyes. They’re nearly completely black, just a ring of blue around the edges. They’re hazy and unfocused, but Yuuri can see when they zero in on him. Victor is a complete mess, but he lazers his focus in on Yuuri like he always does, making sure Yuuri knows that Victor really sees him. Yuuri looks back, because he really sees Victor, and Victor needs to know. Victor, with his fucked loose muscles and sweat and come stains and messy hair and slack jaw, is seen.

Zeno’s paradox is bullshit, and Yuuri slams into orgasm like he’s sprinting head first into a wall. It rips through him like a hand grabbing him and pulling him forward and filling his insides with boiling water and squeezing the breath out of him. Everything goes kind of grey, and Yuuri’s body keeps thrusting because it’s on autopilot, but his mind grinds to a stop, too lost to the pleasure and sensation of being overwhelmed rushing through him, making his legs tingle and his chest ache for needed air. He’s not even sure how much he actually comes, but for all he knows, it may have been his soul.

Coming down takes a while too. Yuuri relaxes parts of his body and his senses slowly come  online. He stretches out his hands and rests them on Victor’s chest to– make sure he’s still breathing? Yuuri doesn’t know. All he knows is that he wants to touch Victor. Victor makes another one of those soft whimpering noises, and Yuuri bends down and unceremoniously wraps his arms around as much of Victor as he can. Victor clumsily holds him back, and then a face is pressing into Yuuri’s shoulder. He squeezes Victor tight and Victor sighs a soft breath against his neck.

They stay that way for a while, and then Yuuri has to pull out. He doesn’t even look when he does it, but Victor’s sharp inhale tells him pretty much all he needs to know. He cleans himself off with a handful of sheet, then collapses on top of Victor, who squeezes Yuuri’s bicep.

“You need to get in the shower,” Yuuri murmurs.

“Unlikely,” Victor croaks.

“No, you really really do.”

“Ugh.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“My hero.” Victor wiggles a little like he’s trying to move, and then gives up almost immediately.

“I just need a moment,” Yuuri promises.

“Take all the time you need. I’m certainly not going anywhere.”

Yuuri laughs, then groans when it makes things inside him twinge. “You’re going to hate me when you wake up in the morning.”

“Probably,” Victor agrees lightly. “But I love you very much right now.”


End file.
